


Through Glass

by dailyroutineat221B



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 01:58:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dailyroutineat221B/pseuds/dailyroutineat221B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“That’s…” Sherlock began.</p>
<p>“Fine,” John completed.</p>
<p>“Wrong,” Sherlock echoed.</p>
<p>John could feel the fear in his tone. </p>
<p>“No,” John spat, “Do you know what is wrong?” he asked as he moved closer, “Being so deprived of contact that your body reacts at the slightest touch. That’s wrong.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through Glass

The air in the flat was dense and heavy.

John was clearly pissed off but at the same time he was concerned, and it was something he was really getting used to.

Sherlock just got back from a chase that had gone wrong, and the result was shattered glass exploding right on him.

What got John pissed was the fact that Sherlock had been injured by his reckless attitude. He had successfully fooled John about the real location to get him out of his way, but his plan hadn’t gone as he expected and he’d been surprised by the criminal.

Once he’d realised he’d been fooled, John angrily headed home. He stopped at Tesco to buy some tea and bread, which gave Sherlock time to recover, rip out the shard of glass that had stuck in his right shoulder and get a cab home.

They arrived home almost at the same time. When John closed the door behind him, reaching the darkness of their hallway, he heard the click of their flat door closing. He shouted a greeting at Mrs. Hudson and rushed upstairs.

He was met by the figure of Sherlock sitting on one of the kitchen chairs. His face was dirty, his hair disheveled and his left hand was pressing at his chest. John dropped the bags on the table and started to put the contents on the cabinets, completely ignoring Sherlock.

When he finished, he cast a quick glance at his friend and went to sit on the couch, turning the TV on but not watching it in the least. After a couple of minutes, he muted the sound and turned his attention to Sherlock again.

It was then that he became concerned. Sherlock was quiet. That was never a good sign. He was still in the same place, pressing his hand to his chest. John could see the dark red stain on his fingers.

“Okay, then,” John finally said, “Just come here and let me fix this.”

“I’m fine, John,” Sherlock replied with his eyes closed.

“No you’re not. By morning it will be infected and you’re going to be in pain and cranky and it will cause me pain,” John stated, “So, go take a shower and come back here so I can take care of it.”

“Fine,” Sherlock replied grumpily.

While Sherlock showered, John went to his room and got the first aid kit he kept in his closet. He checked to sure he had everything he needed need to take care of Sherlock’s injuries and went back to the living room.

Sherlock took only few minutes to appear in the living room, his towel wrapped around his waist, hair dripping wet and a bleeding cut next to his right shoulder.

“Aw, Sherlock, you’re leaving puddles all over the floor!” John scolded.

“Just water,” Sherlock mumbled, sitting next to John on the couch.

John analyzed Sherlock’s wound and scowled.

“It looks pretty bad. Do you need something for the pain?” John asked cautiously.

“I already took two Aspirin before I went to shower,” Sherlock replied lowly.

“Right then, I’ll clean it up,” John said already opening his first aid kit and grabbing some cotton and antiseptic, “This is going to sting a bit.”

John applied the antiseptic to the cotton and wiped the cut. Sherlock breathed out and pressed his lips together. John could feel him tensing.

“Alright?” John asked.

“Yes,” Sherlock said watching John’s hands working cautiously on his skin.

John kept cleaning the cut until it stopped bleeding. He threw the used cotton in a plastic bag and picked through the first aid kit again for some bandages. Sherlock’s eyes followed John’s every move, completely focused on his hands.

“You’re very dexterous,” Sherlock whispered.

“Thank you. Army thing,” John said with a smile.

John found the bandage and started to wrap it over the cut and around Sherlock’s shoulder. Sherlock let his head fall back into the sofa cushion.

“Am I hurting you, Sherlock?” John asked finishing with the adhesive plaster.

“No, nothing like that,” Sherlock’s voice was deep.

John eyed his friend. His damp curls dripped small drops down his neck and torso. There were several small cuts scattered on his stomach, but none of them as deep as the one on his shoulder. Sherlock was still, his head thrown back, only breathing lazily. John picked up the cotton and antiseptic again from his kit and very gently started to treat the other cuts.

Sherlock exhaled deeply but said nothing. He just opened his eyes and stared at John’s face. Their eyes met and John looked away quickly.

John cleared his throat, “You’re tired.”

“More or less,” Sherlock straightened himself and let his eyes follow John’s hands again.

When John lowered his nursing fingers to his lower belly, Sherlock shuddered lightly and tensed again. John hesitated for few seconds but continued. Once again, their eyes met and John held the gaze. Sherlock’s pupils were dilated and John gulped.

“John,” Sherlock breathed.

“Yes?” John’s voice was weak and he stopped his hands.

“You’re touching…” His words failed, “Nobody touches me. I’m not—“

“I’m taking care of your wounds,” John whispered, not daring looking at Sherlock again.

There was a brief moment of silence and the air felt heavy. Sherlock moved to stand but John spoke first and halted his motion.

“In a very tender way,” John stared at his hand lying right below Sherlock’s navel. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not censuring you,” Sherlock said closing his eyes, “You’re a doctor.”

“I’m your friend,” John stopped and threw away the dirty piece of cotton, “And you’re human, you know.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at John.

“I’m just saying,” He paused, “It’s normal to be touched,” John said and Sherlock opened his mouth, “And want to be touched.”

John caressed Sherlock’s waist.

“That’s…” Sherlock began.

“Fine,” John completed.

“Wrong,” Sherlock echoed.

John could feel the fear in his tone.

“No,” John spat, “Do you know what is wrong?” he asked as he moved closer, “Being so deprived of contact that your body reacts at the slightest touch. That’s wrong.”

John motioned his head to the direction of Sherlock’s knees. Sherlock blinked and followed with his eyes. He was half hard under the towel. The realization struck Sherlock. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat to get way from John, but there wasn’t a way to move away without embarrassing himself.

“John. I don’t care, John,” Sherlock put a hand to cover John’s on his waist, his voice trembled, “Leave me.”

“Sherlock, this is not pity.”

The shock of John’s words hit him like a punch in the head. Everything dissolved in three seconds and then it was all back at once. Sherlock realized that John had just answered something he wasn’t quite sure had been asked, but felt like it had been hanging on the air, just waiting. Sherlock’s blurred eyes became clear. John looked right at him. Sherlock let go of John’s hand and let go of his struggle as well.

“Why, then?”

“How do I know?” John said moving his hand gently up and down, “You’re such a controversial one. How could I possibly know something like this?”

“I think I know,” Sherlock said watching his own body hair bristling.

John laughed shortly, “Well, and what you don’t know, huh?”

John slid his hands to the knot of Sherlock’s towel and started to slowly undo it.

“What are you doing?” Sherlock barely whispered before he sucked in a deep breath.

“Just…” John pulled Sherlock’s towel away from his body and gently slipped from his spot and down to the floor, adjusting himself between Sherlock’s legs.

John caressed Sherlock’s thighs with his fingers, strumming lazily. He followed with small kisses over his inner thigh. Sherlock’s hands were clenched into fists. John continued kissing the soft skin of Sherlock’s legs and took Sherlock’s hands into his own hands, dissolving the tight knots of his fingers. Sherlock held John’s hands firmly and sighed something. John looked up at him.

“Okay?” John asked.

Sherlock nodded almost imperceptibly, closing his eyes. John smiled and moved up a bit, settling himself at Sherlock’s waist level and kissing his hip bones. He felt Sherlock’s breath become irregular and his pulse accelerate. The heat from his skin was comforting and John forced himself to concentrate before he got too distracted. He knew if he took time to think about what he was doing, he wouldn’t. Without any further hesitation, he took Sherlock’s member with his mouth.

Sherlock squeezed John’s hand and let out a heavy sigh. John’s heart stopped for some seconds and he just exhaled deeply from his nose while sliding his tongue over the length of Sherlock’s member as he gradually stiffened inside his mouth. John could feel the bitter taste leaking from Sherlock’s shaft, and he lapped at it cautiously, just feeling the rhythmic humming reverberating through Sherlock’s pale skin.

He took Sherlock out of his mouth to kiss and lick at his testicles. At that, Sherlock sucked in a very deep breath, entwining his fingers with John’s and gasping. He bit his lip and John focused his attention back to the length of his member quickly, licking his way up from the base to the tip.

When he took Sherlock in his mouth again, he knew his friend was close to ending. He was breathing erratically and his legs were trembling wildly. John tried to take back his hands so he could add a little more friction to help Sherlock to climax, but his friend’s grip was violently tight and he wouldn’t let go.

John let him slide out of his mouth..

“Sherlock, I need my hands,” John breathed before he took him back into his mouth.

Sherlock gasped and squeezed his hands before letting go of one of them. He held the other as if his life were depended on it. John moved his free hand to the base of Sherlock’s cock and pumped with the same intensity as his tongue on Sherlock’s shaft.

Sherlock started to tremble. John tried to pull away, but Sherlock climaxed with no warning other than a vicious grip squeezing his hand again. Sherlock let out a strangled moan as he came all over John’s lips and chin.

John buried his face in Sherlock’s groin, breathing in his scent. Sherlock wouldn’t let go of his hand. He just stayed in the same position, squeezing and releasing the pressure of his fingers on John’s.

John raised his head after several minutes. Their breathing had become regular again when Sherlock spoke softly.

“We’re lovers?”

“We’re friends,” John answered kindly.

“Quite strange,” Sherlock whispered, letting his free hand wander loosely through John’s hair.

John kissed lightly at Sherlock’s inner thigh again before he concluded, “Yes, we are.”

 

 

End.

**Author's Note:**

> Liked this story? Try my other works:
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/users/dailyroutineat221B/works
> 
> Thank you.


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